


The End Of The World

by loghain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hotboxing, M/M, Smut, Weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loghain/pseuds/loghain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the world, and Sam's got weed, Castiel's half-human, and Dean has left the Impala in their hands for the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End Of The World

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a pinch-hit for the 2012 Sassy Exchange on tumblr.

From the back seat, Castiel watches Sam with a quiet curiosity as he folds the thin paper together, lifting the rolled object to his lips and licking along the length of it before sealing it together. Cas hasn’t had a great deal of time to observe humans since he came to Earth - usually too busy with his garrison, doing important things that were leading not to stop the end of the world but encourage it faster. Since he fell, he’s had even less time, struggling to find God and failing.

Now that he can barely even do something as basic as fly, Castiel has all the time in the world to watch the Winchesters (or you know, as much time as there is before the apocalypse ravages the planet and they all die). He’s seen people smoke, but this looks different, and he certainly hasn’t seen Sam or Dean do this before.

Castiel has the experience of thousands of years of history, the names of Prophets seared into his memory, an Enochian sigil scarred into his chest, but he doesn’t understand what must be basic human things. He’s sure that there’s some sort of joke that Dean would make, but Castiel has a feeling he wouldn’t get it.

“What’s that?” He asks, as Sam’s putting it between his lips. The younger Winchester pauses, takes it out again and glances at it before looking at Castiel. He stares right back.

“It’s a joint, Cas,” Sam says, and Castiel appreciates the man’s tendency to simply tell him things instead of making fun of him. “Uh, they make you feel good, I guess. It’s relaxing.” He looks down at it and adds, “Better than demon blood.”

Castiel thinks for a beat and then queries, “It’s a drug?”

“Yeah. I haven’t had any in a while, and this is kind of old but it’s still good. Since Dean doing whatever tonight, I figured...” Sam shifts in his seat and pulls out his lighter, turning it over in his hand before he says, “D’you want to try it?”

Castiel weighs up the options. There’s the apocalypse, and that’s a pretty big deal, so he should keep a clear mind, but on the other hand there’s nothing they can do tonight and with the end of the world imminent he believes there may be reason to try new things before it’s too late.

He nods.

Sam nods in turn, and lights the end of the joint, inhaling deeply. Castiel watches him intently as he holds it and then exhales, smoke flooding into the car. Castiel feels compelled to ask, “Aren’t you going to open the windows?”

Sam looks at the windows and then shakes his head, and says, “It’s better like this. Dean’ll be pissed, but he’s the one who ditched for the night, so.” 

The smoke, what little Cas catches of it, smells odd, but not entirely unpleasant. Sam takes another breath from the joint before he hands it over. Castiel takes it in his hands and Sam instructs without having to ask if he’s done anything like this before, “Just inhale it real deep. Then take in some clean air too and exhale.”

Castiel does as he’s told.

And immediately starts coughing. He doubles over, shoving the joint back in Sam’s general direction, and before he knows it Sam’s clambered awkwardly into the back seat and he’s patting Cas on the back. “Man, you are totally new at this,” he observes uselessly, and Castiel would offer some biting remark or at least glare at him if he wasn’t choking on his own lungs.

Castiel misses not being so dependent on this body. If he were still a completely together angel, he could just clear his chest instantly, he could function without the lungs if he had to. A host is just frozen in time, but since Jimmy passed on, he’s been more tied to this body, and without his powers he’s all but sealed into it and all its humanity.

“Just take a sec, okay,” Sam assures him, and Castiel wheezes some more as Sam leans over the bench back into the front half of the car. He pushes a bottle of water into Castiel’s hands, and then sits back, knees spread as he slumps down, raising the joint to his mouth and making it look effortless.

Castiel sips the water. It helps, and he won’t give up that easily, so he takes the roll from Sam and tries again, slower. His chest burns, but it’s easier, and he’s starting to feel… different. His heart is beating faster, and he feels a little lighter. “It feels good,” he murmurs, and glances around the car, fast filling with exhaled smoke and what drifts from the joint itself. He passes it back to Sam, who says, “I told you.”

It gets hot pretty quickly - temperature is still something that Castiel isn’t quite used to feeling, but he shucks the over coat, and settles back on the seat, blinking as smoke swims about in front of his eyes. It’s getting thick now. He looks at Sam, lips pursed around the end of the joint, the bright red light at the end of it. Castiel feels lighter still. Like he’s drifting, but he’s safe, and every bone in his body is at ease for the first time probably ever.

Sam exhales, resting his hand with the joint on his knee, and then he looks at Cas, licking his lips. His brow creases and then he shifts, sitting upright and getting a lot closer than he normally would. Castiel tips his chin up a little, and Sam says, “Man, your eyes… your pupils are totally blown.”

“Yours are slightly red,” Castiel says, entirely unsure what’s going on. Are they trading statements of the obvious? Observations on one another’s physical appearance?

“I really wanna kiss you,” Sam says, and Castiel’s mouth just sort of hangs a little open as he tries to formulate a response to that. Whilst this drug makes him feel good, _really_ good, his brain’s kind of swimming. He can’t think as clearly as he should.

Clearly, Sam takes the open mouth as some kind of invitation, leaning in and catching Castiel’s mouth with his own. He sort of sits there quite still, and Sam pulls away, blinking quickly. He looks half abashed and half like he’s not entirely sure what’s going on, and Castiel finally manages, “Okay.”

Sam’s shoulders scrunch and he laughs, a strange, brief, high pitched noise. A giggle, Castiel realizes, and then Sam does it again, eyebrows high as he questions, “Okay? What’s that even mean?”

“It means,” Castiel contemplates, “It means… okay.”

There’s like a little moment where they sync up, then, and Sam goes in for a kiss just as Castiel pushes forward to take one. The clash of lips and teeth is awkward but they make it work, turning it into something sweeter and entirely more manageable, and Castiel doesn’t know if it would feel the same without the drug but it’s almost as good as the rush when he inhales it.

They sit like that a while, the smoke swirling around them as they exchange lazy swipes of tongue and the press of lips, and then Sam breaks away to breathe in another hit and he says, “Cas, you trust me, right? I mean, do you?”

Castiel nods. Sam shifts like he’s uncomfortable, and with a downward glance Castiel’s face immediately heats up. Sam is… hard, at least somewhat. Enough for something of a visible appearance through layers of jeans and underwear.

“Sam,” Castiel says, entirely unsure of where he’s going with this. 

“Cas, I’m really horny right now,” Sam blurts, and Castiel blinks at him. “So. If you want. Can we?”

Castiel nods consent, even if he’s not entirely sure what _Can we?_ entails. But he wants to find out. He wants to experience _everything_. Right now, he feels like he can do anything and it’ll feel amazing.

Sam takes another hit from the joint and then passes it to Castiel, who does the same, and then he leans into the front seat to put it out in the ashtray, and then he’s back again, kissing Castiel and sliding warm hands everywhere and pulling their bodies close.

“Sam,” Castiel murmurs, his spine arching as Sam mouths at the junction of his neck and jaw, teeth scraping down his throat. He grasps, getting a fistful of Sam’s shirt in one hand with the other curving into the hot skin at the base of Sam’s neck. Sam’s so close, warm, and Cas wants to really look at him but he’s at some sort of stage where all he wants to do is close his eyes, so that’s what he does, rolling his hips instinctively up against Sam and finding his mouth for a kiss.

Sam’s hands leave his body and push at his clothes instead, and Castiel opens his eyes to shed jacket and tie as Sam grabs at his shirt, yanking it out of his pants and pulling at his belt. 

It’s indelicate, Castiel thinks, but then Sam’s wrapped a hand around his cock and - the sensation that ripples through him is entirely new, shooting like sparks, and Castiel moans more out of surprise than anything else. Sam seems to like it though, groaning quietly and kissing Castiel.

Castiel likes to think he’s nothing if not a fast learner, and he returns the gesture, yanking at Sam’s belt buckle, managing to pop the button of his jeans and pull down the zipper. He slips a hand inside, forgetting there’s underwear to get through first, and rubs his palm over Sam’s cock, enjoying the way that Sam jerks his hips down against his hand.

He shoves at Sam’s underwear, wanting it totally out of the way, and Sam stops touching Castiel in order to help, leaning back and shoving his jeans and underwear down past his ass in one. It’s kind of shockingly hot to look at, Sam all rumpled and half-dressed, and Castiel surges up to press his mouth against Sam’s, wrapping his hand around the taller man’s length.

Sam swears, scratching his fingers against Castiel’s sides, and he pushes them way down onto the leather seats, tucking their bodies tightly together. The smoke just keeps swirling. “Cas, I really wanna…” Sam looks like he’s trying to find a delicate way to say something, and Castiel squeezes his fingers against Sam’s cock and the man groans before he just straight up comes out with, “I wanna fuck you. That’d be really cool.”

Castiel thinks about it. He’s sure virginity is supposed to be important, but - “Yes.” End of the world. Dean did say he didn’t want Cas to die a virgin.

“Great,” Sam says, and there’s a pause before they flurry into movement. Sam nudges Castiel’s hand away and battles with his trousers instead, pulling them off with his underwear, leaving Castiel lying in the backseat in just his shirt and socks.

He wonders if it’s the drugs or if this really is as good as it all feels, especially the sight of Sam sucking two fingers in his mouth, staring down at Castiel all the while. Castiel shifts his legs apart without really thinking about it, and although he sees Sam’s hand move and feels the pressure, he’s still somehow surprised when Sam’s fingers are suddenly inside him, thick and long.

“Sam,” Castiel gasps, hands flying up to grab at Sam’s shoulders. “Sam,” he repeats, chanting it because other than the feeling of Sam moving his fingers, stretching him open, he can’t _think_ , his head’s too full of happy nothing and pleasure and the smell of the smoke in the car.

“We’re just getting started,” Sam tells him, and Castiel digs his fingers into Sam’s shoulders at the promise. He pulls his fingers out and Castiel whines, the dragging feeling a little on the dry side, but Sam spits on his fingers and presses them back against his entrance; not quite pushing in, but keeping him slick.

Then he’s spitting in the palm of his hand, wetting the length of his cock, and he doesn’t wait for an okay or a say-so before he pushes inside Castiel.

A hard cock is different to fingers. Hotter, thicker - _much_ thicker, and Castiel’s breath is taken from his throat like someone stole his lungs, and he’s trying his best to accommodate Sam’s size. “You okay?” Sam says, and he’s laughing a little bit, nudging his nose against Castiel’s.

“Why are you _laughing_?”

“I’m high as fuck,” Sam answers, in an entirely serious whisper, and then he kisses Castiel, sweet and smoky. And then he shifts his hips, just a fraction, and Castiel inhales sharply through his nose. “Seriously, you okay?”

“Yes,” Castiel confirms after a moment, and Sam responds by grinning and shifting his position, dragging back and then thrusting in. Castiel groans, tipping his head back, lifting a leg and tucking it against Sam’s.

It’s not rhythmic, alternating between snappish and sluggish, and Cas doesn’t care at all, too overwhelmed by Sam’s mouth wet on his neck and his cock filling him up, the push-pull of it all. Sam moans Castiel’s name, and Castiel feels so light headed it’s like he could float away. Sam grounds him.

Each thrust sparks off every nerve ending in Castiel’s body. It’s striking and amazing and leaves him gasping for more, aching for something that’s building hot and ready in the pit of his stomach. Castiel thinks this must require further testing - if it’s this good whilst drugs pulse through his blood or if it’s just this good, if Sam just feels this good.

One of Sam’s hands close on one of his hips, and the other cups Castiel’s face to draw him in for another kiss. Kissing is something Castiel likes, and he’s glad that Sam seems to share that. The press of lips and slide of tongues is beyond pleasant, and lazy like this it’s nice, and helps wind down the intensity of it all, staving off release for just that little bit longer as he’s lost in the feeling.

Sam breaks the kiss and curses, squeezing his eyes shut and jerking his hips in jaggedly, fast and sloppy. He presses his head against Castiel’s collarbone, moaning low and guttural, and then at the last moment he groans reluctantly and pulls out of Castiel, coming on his skin and on the leather.

Castiel’s eyes widen, and he whines at the loss, but Sam’s quick enough to slip two fingers inside him and wrap fingers around his cock, thrusting them in and out fast and stroking faster until Castiel twists, moaning sharply, that hot feeling rising to a head as his orgasm hits him and he comes over his stomach and Sam’s hand.

“Holy crap,” Sam murmurs, drawing his fingers out and wiping them carelessly on the seats.

They recover for a good five minutes, until Castiel can struggle into a sitting position that leaves one leg trapped between the seat and Sam’s back, and the other draped over his lap. Sam’s still got his pants half-down, and he looks a mess, his hair askew and his eyes gently rimmed with red. Sam rests a hand on his ankle and says, “Dean is so gonna kill me.”

He giggles again, and says, “But he’s not gonna be back for a while. I have enough to make another joint if you want.”

Castiel thinks about it, picking up his boxers to wipe up as much of the bodily fluids as he can and then he says, “Alright.”

It is the end of the world, after all.


End file.
